To Whom It May
To whom it may concern, I write
This note, most earnestly contrite
About a thing that I have done
Deserving censure from – someone.
She lies here now, collapsed in tears
She who was prone to believing,
The lie I told was meant for ears
Deaf to my deceiving.
Those ears were hers, but also mine
(It was a self-deception most unkind)
This is the thing that I have done –
I pledged my love where there was none.
And years passed; and my hair turned gray
And she loved me more each passing day,
And seeing the brightness in her eyes,
I told ...